Characteristics
by notsure2010
Summary: A Rizzles fic, set right after the "I Kissed a Girl" episode.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 1

Detective Jane Rizzoli sat at her desk with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face. She stared absently at a package of fudge clusters that sat atop a stack of files at the edge of her desk and chewed the corner of her lip. All morning she had been finishing up the paperwork from her most recent case but she kept getting distracted by the damn gift basket that Jorge had sent, and the memories that it conjured up. She wished she had remembered to toss the whole thing in the dumpster before she'd gone home for the weekend. But instead, she had arrived on Monday morning to find the fudge clusters sitting there, just where Maura had left them.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that Jane didn't seem to notice when her former partner, Vince Korsak, walked into the room and sat down at the desk opposite hers until he asked her a question.

"Hey, Rizzoli, what'd that bag of candy ever do to you? You're staring at it like it just insulted your mother."

Jane looked up, her eyes still unfocused. "What?" She stared at Korsak blankly for half a second before responding. "Nothing, I'm just . . . thinking about something."

"Oh, I remember now," said Korsak in a teasing tone, "those are the chocolates from Jorge, aren't they? Are you thinking about Jorge, Janie?"

Jane snorted and then sneered at her former partner. "Shut up, Korsak." She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hand and groaned.

"Is he still sending you stuff? Cooking any more dinners for you?" Korsak kept teasing, since it was only the two of them in the office and he liked getting Jane all riled up.

"No, Maura managed to get rid of him for me." Jane sighed, and stared off into space again.

"How'd she do that? Did she diagnose him with some disease or something?"

"No, she told him—" Jane stopped herself before finishing her sentence. She suddenly didn't want to tell Korsak that Maura had led Jorge to believe that she was a lesbian in order to let him down gently. She was certainly grateful that Maura had finally been able to get Jorge to stop calling and emailing, but that didn't mean everyone needed to know all the details.

Jane avoided Korsak's eyes. "I don't know what she told him. She just convinced him that I wasn't interested. Now can we get off of this? If I hear the name Jorge again I might vomit."

Korsak waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Fine, fine. Whatever. If you don't want the chocolates though . . . can I have them?"

Jane picked up the bag and tossed it—none too gently—to her colleague, who caught it, smiled broadly, and popped a chocolate into his mouth before turning to his computer.

Jane returned to her half reclining, half scowling position at her desk, and was silent for a couple of minutes. Then she sat up and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk and her chin in her hands.

"Hey, Korsak?"

The detective mumbled something through a mouthful of chocolate that sounded like "yeah." He didn't look away from his computer screen.

"Do you remember what Maura said the other day, when we were talking about Jorge?"

Korsak swallowed. "What, about the CHUMP study?"

"No, not that." Jane mumbled "chump study" under her breath and shook her head. "Remember, I said that maybe if I got fat Jorge would stop calling, and then Maura said that if I just let him see all sides of me, or something about some characteristics that I had, then he'd stop calling."

Korsak bit into another chocolate. He remembered the conversation that Jane was referring to, and he also remembered the hurt look on Jane's face when Maura had tried to backtrack away from her suggestion that Jane had some "bad traits." He didn't like where Jane's train of thought was headed. So he just took his time chewing the candy and hoped he wouldn't have to say anything definitive about the subject.

Jane continued, once again avoiding looking Korsak in the eyes by doodling on a notepad on her desk. "What do you think she meant by that?"

Korsak decided to play dumb. "How the hell do I know? I never understand half the things Dr. Isles says."

"Yeah," said Jane, leaning back in her chair. "I know the feeling." Jane was silent for another minute before turning toward Korsak again.

"I just want to know—" Jane paused, and then stopped speaking when she heard the sound of heels clicking in the hallway. Within seconds Maura Isles appeared in the office and headed for Jane's desk.

Jane gave Korsak a look that she hoped would keep him from saying anything to the medical examiner about their conversation, and then turned to her friend and smiled.

"Hey, Maura."

"Hello, Jane. Are you ready for lunch?"

Jane cringed inwardly. Although she usually jumped at the chance for a lunch out with Maura, she suddenly didn't feel like spending time with her friend. She was confused, and she didn't like being confused.

Jane had spent her entire adult life cultivating her skills as a cop and a detective, and she had reached a point where she actually had a lot of confidence in those skills. She didn't date much, but was generally confident in her social skills as well. Especially since she had met Maura. She had never really had a best friend before, and she had discovered how nice it was to have someone in her life that she could really count on. So to find out that Maura had studied all aspects of her personality, and found one, or even some, of those aspects lacking, bothered her.

And it bothered her that she was bothered.

She decided to make up an excuse to get out of lunch, just to give herself more time to think.

"Lunch? Oh, sorry, Maura, I forgot—I have to run some errands for my mother. Her car's in the shop and she's been calling me all morning asking if I can pick up some stuff for her." Jane quickly stood up and grabbed her purse, and before she finished her sentence she was already halfway to the door. She didn't want Maura offering to come with her.

She called out over her shoulder without stopping, "We'll do lunch tomorrow, okay?" She almost turned back as she caught a glimpse of the confused look on Maura's face, but instead she let her momentum carry her out the door.

When Jane was out of earshot Maura turned to Korsak and gave him a quizzical look.

"Did Jane seem to be acting strangely to you?"

Korsak was only too happy to cover for his former partner. He did not want to get into a conversation about Jane's feelings, and how they might or might not have been hurt by a certain doctor. "Nah, she's probably just thinking about a case. She was talking about Jorge earlier though—something about how she's glad you got rid of him for her. And she gave me his fudge clusters." He held the open bag out to the medical examiner, who took one and nodded her thanks.

"Jorge." Maura frowned and bit into the chocolate. "That date did not turn out like I had planned." She chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds, and then looked at Korsak. "I am done trying to set her up with men—and if I ever do try it again, you," Maura stabbed her index finger into the air in Korsak's general direction, "are responsible for reminding me of the Jorge disaster." Korsak laughed and nodded, and Maura turned and began walking out of the office. Before she reached the door she stopped abruptly and added, "You won't tell her I said that, will you Korsak?"

"'Course not, Dr. Isles," Korsak called out after her, rolling his eyes as she disappeared around the corner. He muttered "women" under his breath and turned back to his computer screen.

* * *

Jane drove around Boston for an hour, thinking more about what Maura might have meant when she said that if Jane allowed Jorge to see all sides of her, he would stop calling. What, exactly, were these characteristics that made Maura wrinkle her nose and grimace when she thought about them?

Jane began compiling a mental list while she drove.

Bossy? _That's probably true—but she's just as bossy. We both like to get our own way. She can't deny that._

Can't relax? _That is definitely not true, and Maura knows it—we've spent enough time at the Dirty Robber together for her to admit that. Was she just teasing me when she pointed out that I was wearing my clothes and shoes to bed? Maura doesn't really tease though—does she?_

Too negative and sarcastic? _Well, what the hell does she expect? I've been a cop for fifteen years, and we have to deal with the worst things that humans can possibly do to each other—is it any wonder that I can't just conjure up a positive attitude any old time? Especially at crime scenes?_

Impatient? _I try to be patient with her, most of the time. I'm a lot more patient with Frost than Korsak is. I'm a good cop—cops can't be patient all the time or nothing would ever get done. And if she'd been dealing with my mother all of her life, she might be a little impatient too._

Fashion challenged?

Jane found herself scowling even harder when she thought about Maura and clothes.

Except for the little black dress her mother had forced her to wear for a date, Maura had never said anything nice about her clothes. In fact, Maura herself had once purchased a dress for her when they had to attend a function together because she was afraid that Jane would embarrass her. Jane hadn't thought much about it at the time, but now she felt—

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Did she care about what people thought about her clothes? Or did she just care what _Maura_ thought about her clothes? Whatever this feeling was—this tightness in her chest, these flashes of discomfort when she remembered her best friend frowning at the clothes in her closet—it was very alarming.

No one had ever made her question her taste in clothes before. No one had ever made her even think twice about fashion before. Not even her mother.

Pulling into a parking space behind police headquarters, Jane turned off the engine and told herself to snap out of it. She looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror and took a deep breath. She pulled out her ponytail and smoothed out the long strands of dark hair before sweeping them back again, deftly twisting the elastic and then tucking a few shorter hairs behind her ears. She found a tube of lipstick in her purse and applied a light layer.

As she did so, the thought came unbidden to her mind:

_I want Maura to think I'm pretty_.

Some sort of electricity seemed to be sparking through her body, collecting in her chest. But she fought to swallow it down as she got out of the car and took another deep breath of cold Boston air. Crossing the parking lot, she tried to pull herself together. She walked quickly, anxious to get back to her desk and the distractions of work.

As soon as she passed through the metal detector and headed for the elevator, she caught a glimpse of a red dress out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to find Maura standing at the coffee machine at the other end of the hall. When Maura looked away from the machine she saw Jane, caught her eye, and smiled.

All thought left her head as Jane smiled back and unexplained warmth flooded through her body.

Maura's smile did that to her every time.

Jane waved and stepped into the elevator, a goofy grin still plastered on her face. By the time the elevator doors opened just outside the homicide department, however, the grin was replaced once again by a scowl.

It was disconcerting for Jane to realize that while Maura had a list of her negative characteristics, she couldn't think of a single thing about Maura that she didn't love.

A/N: I'm trying to get into Jane's head here—leave a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

A/N: A big thank you to all those who left reviews for chapter one—all 21 of you! I'm absolutely stunned by the response. Hopefully chapter two will live up to your expectations.

Chapter 2

At just after one in the afternoon on a Thursday, Lieutenant Cavanaugh walked into the homicide department and barked out an order.

"Okay folks, as you know, today is our yearly—and mandatory, I might add—sexual harassment seminar. We begin at 2:00 pm sharp, and I expect every one of you to be there. And that includes you, Rizzoli."

Jane looked up from her computer and spread her arms in front of her in a gesture of innocence. "What are you yelling at me for? I've been looking forward to it all week," said Jane with obvious sarcasm.

"Department records show that you have missed the seminar for the last two years in a row, so you had damn well better be there, Rizzoli. And where's Korsak?"

"He's out on a case—sometimes we have actual work to do, lieutenant."

Cavanaugh ignored Jane's acerbic attitude. "Well, when he comes back tell him I expect to see his ass in the conference room along with all the rest of you."

Jane snickered as soon as her boss was out of earshot, "Isn't the whole point of the seminar supposed to be to keep us from seeing Korsak's ass?" The comment earned her a few laughs from her colleagues, but then silence settled over the room as everyone went back to work.

Everyone except Jane, who was merely fidgeting and pushing papers around on her desk.

At five minutes before two, Jane came out of the ladies' room and went to get her partner on her way to the conference room.

"C'mon, Frost, if we're late Cavanaugh will probably have a stroke and blame it on me."

Frost looked up from his desk and did a double take when he saw his partner. He could have sworn that when she left the room ten minutes earlier Jane had been wearing a plain white t-shirt with her hair pulled back haphazardly. Over the t-shirt she now had on a light pink, button-up shirt as well as a grey jacket that matched her slacks and her hair fell loosely over her shoulders. As Frost held open the door for Jane, he took the opportunity to look more closely at her face . . .

Jane Rizzoli was wearing makeup. Not just a little lipstick, which she wore from time to time, but what looked like eye shadow in a shade meant to match her shirt. Frost was still a little afraid of his new and more experienced partner, so he just pretended like he hadn't noticed anything. He wished that Korsak had returned from the field in time for the seminar though—the older detective wouldn't have hesitated to point out the sudden change in Rizzoli's appearance.

The fact was, both Frost and Korsak had noticed that Jane had been acting a little strangely all week. She seemed distracted and overly sensitive. One afternoon Korsak had been joking with her and called her bossy, and she suddenly shut down and effectively gave him the silent treatment for the rest of the day. The next morning she had seemed fine, but then disappeared all Wednesday afternoon with no explanation. Not even Dr. Isles had known where she had escaped to. Before the seminar that morning Jane had attacked a pile of paperwork with unusual energy, sending Frost to the morgue three times to check on the status of some lab work—a task she usually did herself so that she could take a break and chat with the medical examiner.

Frost didn't know what was going on with his partner, but he was fairly certain it had something to do with Dr. Isles, and he was definitely certain he didn't want to be involved.

The chairs in the conference room, arranged in classroom-style rows, were nearly full when Jane and Frost walked in. Jane immediately noticed Maura sitting on the right side of the room, with two empty seats beside her, and the detective felt her heart beat just a little bit harder in her chest. She hung back though, telling herself that she didn't_ always_ have to sit next to Maura. She pretended not to notice the doctor, scanning the left side of the room for other available chairs.

Frost immediately saw the empty seats next to Maura though, and turned to his partner. "There's Dr. Isles—let's sit with her." He led the way, but courteously allowed Jane to slide into the row first, where she sat next to the doctor. The chairs were so close together Jane couldn't help brushing her shoulder against Maura's, and the contact produced a tingling feeling in her chest that she was beginning to expect whenever Maura was close enough to touch. She told herself to ignore it, and stared straight ahead as Cavanaugh began to introduce the administrators of the seminar.

As soon as Cavanaugh finished, Maura leaned close to Jane and began to whisper, her lips dangerously close to Jane's ear. "You were very nearly late—I was afraid you weren't going to come."

Jane blinked and squirmed in her seat as she felt Maura's warm breath on her cheek, and whispered back, deliberately speaking out of the corner of her mouth to keep herself from turning her head toward her friend. "I was going to try to get out of it, but Cavanaugh caught me."

"You of all people should be glad we have these seminars," returned Maura, still in a quiet voice, "studies have shown that they actually do improve conditions for women in the workplace."

"Yeah, well, it's still a pain in the ass." Jane caught Maura's eye then, and both women shared a smile. Jane quickly looked away, but Maura's eyes lingered on Jane's face a little longer than usual—so long, in fact, that Jane couldn't ignore it. Her eyes widened, and she turned her head to give her friend a questioning look.

Maura saw Jane's look and leaned close to her again, explaining, "I like that eye shadow, Jane. A very nice shade of mauve. Is it new?"

Jane felt her face grow hot. "Um, yeah." Jane shifted in her seat again, clearly uncomfortable with the attention that Maura was paying to her appearance. That didn't stop her from asking her friend to elaborate further, however. "What do you think of this shirt? Too pink?" Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing that Maura would give an honest—but perhaps insulting—answer.

Maura tilted her head to get a better look at the shirt. "No, not at all. It looks very nice on you." Maura sat back in her seat, and it seemed she was going to start listening to the speaker. Jane stared straight ahead too, hoping that nothing about her face or body language revealed how pleased she was that Maura had given her a compliment.

After a few minutes, Maura began whispering again.

"Did your mother take you shopping?"

Suddenly Jane felt rather defensive. Was this one of the bad characteristics on Maura's list—that she let her mother pick out her clothes? "What? Noooo. I mean, I can pick out clothes for myself, Maura."

"Of course you can, Jane, I was just wondering." Maura paused for a moment before continuing again. "It's just that, given the fact that since I've known you I have never seen you go shopping without being either bribed or coerced, I just assumed that your mother was somehow involved."

"You _assumed_, Dr. Isles?" Jane turned toward Maura with a smirk on her face, her irritation immediately replaced by what could only be called delight in catching her evidence-obsessed friend in an assumption.

Maura opened her mouth in shock, and then giggled softly. "You're right, Jane, I shouldn't leap to conclusions about your shopping habits." She sat back in her seat again, still smiling. Very quietly, she added, "I would still wager that your mother was involved, however."

Jane's jaw dropped as she pretended to take offense at Maura's comment, and then she whispered hoarsely, "For your information, I found this shirt in the back of my closet and I really don't remember where I got it. So it is entirely possible that, at one time, my mother _may_ have purchased it for me." Jane's voice grew louder as she continued. "But as for the makeup—"

Jane stopped when a uniformed officer sitting in front of them turned around and glared at the two women, obviously irritated by their whispering. Jane gave him a caustic look, and Maura turned to her friend with her finger over her smiling lips, and made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a shushing noise.

Admonished, Jane and Maura stared straight ahead, avoiding each other's eyes so that they wouldn't start laughing again.

When the seminar finally concluded, Maura headed back down to the morgue, complaining about being behind on a report. Jane called out after her. "Hey, are we still on for drinks with Frost and Korsak tomorrow night?"

Maura nodded and smiled. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it. You promised to teach me how to throw darts."

"And you promised to drink something other than cabernet."

Maura smirked. "Okay, see you later."

Jane headed back to her desk with a smile on her face.

Jane left work at exactly five pm on Friday afternoon, telling Frost to tell Maura that she would meet them at the Dirty Robber at eight. Then she went home to grab something to eat and get dressed.

Earlier in the week the detective had taken an entire afternoon off for what turned into a nightmarishly long shopping trip. She had managed to pick out a few new work shirts which were slightly nicer than her usual t-shirts, and an enthusiastic woman at the Clinique counter had helped her with some new makeup. But that had been the easy part.

The Clinique lady convinced Jane that the "mauve" eye shadow was perfect for her skin tone, but then when she tried it on with her new work shirts, it didn't seem right. But she had spent so much time putting the stuff on just the way the lady had showed her that she didn't want to rub it all off and start again with her usual barely noticeable brown tint. Hence the last-minute decision to dig out the pink button-up, which seemed to match better. The other new shirts were still lying haphazardly across a chair in her bedroom where she had tossed them, probably collecting wrinkles.

Her "going-out" clothes had been the real problem. She hadn't even known what stores to go to. She kept trying to remember stores that Maura had mentioned to her, but that didn't help because she knew she couldn't afford anything in those kinds of stores anyway.

Everything she tried on seemed to be wrong for her. The skirts were too short, or too long; the tops were too brightly colored or had odd patterns. With every item she looked at, she wondered if Maura would inspect the stitching and find it lacking. To top it all off, she had no idea what kind of shoes she should wear with any of it.

Finally, she had found a black, knee-length pencil skirt that was loose enough that she didn't feel like her circulation was being cut off. She paired it with a green top with a scoop neck and fancy buttons on the sleeves. The salesgirl assured her that it looked fabulous on her, and she even had some black heels that seemed to match okay.

Still, Jane felt awfully nervous as she walked into the bar at just after eight that night, wearing her new outfit. The room was crowded, but she saw that Maura was already there and had secured a booth. She snaked her way through the crowd and sat down opposite her friend, smiling at the fact that Maura had ordered her a beer. She took a drink and was about to ask where Frost and Korsak were when she saw that Maura was frowning at her.

"What's wrong, Maura?"

"Nothing," squeaked the doctor, putting on her best fake smile.

"Maura, everyone knows you can't lie. Out with it." Jane took another drink of her beer.

"Um, have you been shopping again, Jane?"

Jane felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach and she avoided Maura's eyes. "Yeah . . . don't you like my outfit? I thought I'd try something different."

"Jane, it's just—if you wanted a new look, why didn't you ask me to come with you? That top just isn't right for you. But I saw a lovely sweater in a catalogue the other day that would be perfect—I can bring it to work next week, or maybe . . . show it . . . to you . . . online?" Maura's voice got quiet as she saw Jane's features harden.

Jane set down her beer and sucked in a breath. "Really, Maura? Don't you think I'm capable of picking out clothes without adult supervision? I thought you'd be happy that I showed up in a skirt."

"Of course I am, but—"

"No, just stop. I don't want to hear any more. And I definitely don't want you to tell me what's wrong with the damn skirt." Jane rubbed her forehead, and then abruptly slid out of the booth and headed for the door.

Maura tried to catch up with her in the parking lot. "Jane, wait. I'm sorry!" Maura called out as Jane reached her car. Jane stopped and turned around, leaning on the driver's side door with her arms folded across her chest.

Maura stood in front of her, reaching out tentatively and squeezing Jane's arm. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you feel badly. Please don't run away from me."

Jane stiffened involuntarily at Maura's touch, and Maura let her hand drop. Jane looked down at the ground and chewed her lip. She felt a wave of shame wash over her, as she realized that she had just gone into an adolescent pout because her friend didn't like her clothes. Was her tendency to run away from personal interactions that she felt she couldn't control another one of the negative characteristics that Maura had on her list? Jane felt so insecure at that moment that she didn't trust herself to say anything. She just stared at the ground.

"I didn't think you cared so much about your clothes, Jane—at least you never have before. I didn't think you would be so sensitive about it—otherwise, I wouldn't have said anything."

"I'm not _sensitive_ about it, Maura. I guess I'm just in a bad mood or something." Jane knew that was a lame excuse as soon as she said it, but she just rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, still avoiding looking at her friend.

"What is this really about, Jane? What's going on?" Maura's voice was soft and patient. "Why the extra attention to your clothes and your hair lately? Is there someone you are trying to impress?" Maura's tone became playful. "Was there going to be a guy at the bar tonight?"

Jane's head snapped up, and for the first time that night she looked her friend in the eyes before looking down again. "No. No guy, definitely not." She felt a panicky feeling in her chest, as she realized what she had just said. Maura was going to want an explanation—an explanation that Jane wasn't ready to give. She wasn't sure she even had an explanation herself.

To Jane's profound relief, she saw Frost and Korsak pulling into the parking lot. This gave her the impetus she needed to transform herself from this mess of feelings and insecurities that she had allowed herself to become, back into self-assured Detective Jane Rizzoli.

"Look, Maura, like I said—I think I'm just tired and I need to relax a little. The guys are here—let's just go in and have a good time, okay? And I would like to see the sweater that you found in the catalogue—you can show it to me tomorrow before we go to the movie."

Maura looked visibly relieved. "Okay! I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Jane. You know how I am, sometimes—I never know the right thing to say."

Jane smiled with genuine fondness at her friend, and reached out and gently touched her elbow. "I know, it's no big deal, really. C'mon, let's go."

_What the hell are you doing, Rizzoli_, thought Jane as she escorted Maura through the parking lot back to the bar. _What the hell are you doing?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews—keep 'em coming!

Chapter 3

It was a Saturday night, and Jane Rizzoli was home alone doing laundry. Sorting clothes into piles, she remembered that she had better check to see if she had left any clothes in her overnight bag. She found the bag on the floor of the closet and opened it up.

Inside, she found clean underwear, a t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants, neatly folded and still smelling of fabric softener. Clearly, she hadn't used the bag since the last time she had done laundry. And, judging by the size of the piles of clothes she'd created on the floor of her bedroom, that meant she hadn't stayed at Maura's for at least two weeks.

Jane dropped the bag on the floor of the closet and took a few steps across the room to her dresser. Pulling open a drawer, she dug around until she found a pair of pajamas that belonged to Maura—also neatly folded. She picked up the silky blue top and held it to her face, inhaling deeply.

Fabric softener, again. Not even a hint of Maura's scent. That meant Maura hadn't slept at Jane's place for at least two weeks either.

Jane held onto the shirt and sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling very lonely.

For several months she and Maura had spent nearly every weekend together, and lots of weeknights too. Their sleepovers had become so commonplace that invitations were rarely given and accepted—they were just expected. She had come to think of Maura's spare room as her own, since she stayed there so often. Any number of times the two friends had lain side by side in the guest bed for hours, just talking and laughing. On several occasions Jane had awakened in the morning to find Maura still lying next to her. Of course, since Jane had no spare bedroom they always slept side by side whenever they stayed at her apartment. Maura had never seemed to mind.

Jane had never really shared a bed with anyone before, and she found, much to her surprise, that she rather enjoyed it. Lying in bed next to Maura and realizing that there was another person with whom she felt so comfortable that she actually wanted to spend as much time with her as possible—so much time that just the days weren't enough, she wanted the nights too—had made her very nearly giddy with happiness.

And now it had been over two weeks since their last sleepover. Jane felt a lump rising in her throat as she realized just how much she missed her best friend. The sole focus of her plan had been to keep Maura Isles as her best friend, not drive her away. How had things gone so wrong?

* * *

After trying and failing to impress Maura with new clothes and makeup, Jane had realized two things. First, she did not really want to change her wardrobe—at least not drastically. She was happy with her appearance because it said a lot about who she was as a professional and as a person. Trying to dress like Maura—which she now realized was exactly what she had been trying to do—would have been a lost cause. She couldn't afford to dress like that, she didn't want to spend the time it would take to dress like that, and she wouldn't have been comfortable or happy dressed like that.

Second, Jane accepted the fact that she simply was not Maura's type. Maura had very specific tastes, in everything from wine to shoes to pets, and it only made sense that she would be just as specific when it came to romantic partners. When Maura had, in a moment of levity, theorized about the type of women she would like—_if she liked women_—she had clearly and unambiguously said that Jane wasn't her type.

So, Jane told herself after that night at the bar, it was time to move past her ridiculous crush on Maura and just be happy with the friendship they had.

Easier said than done. Jane had a great deal of self-control, and she had certainly managed to cure herself of crushes before. But this was Maura, her best friend, not a guy she could just avoid until her feelings finally weakened and then disappeared.

The day after the incident at the bar, the two women had gone to a movie together. A movie they had been planning on seeing together for some time. A movie that, as it turned out, was centered on the slow build-up of sexual tension between the two main characters and that culminated in a rather steamy sex scene. The movie was in Italian and Jane had initially complained about having to read subtitles, but it turned out that the dialogue wasn't the main focus of the movie anyway. The characters spoke to each other with such obvious body language that anyone could understand it.

Jane certainly did. While Maura sat calmly enjoying the movie, Jane was just grateful they were in a dark theater and not at home on one of their couches. She knew her face was red—she could feel her cheeks burning—and she could hardly keep still in her seat. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Maura could hear it.

All she could think about was how badly she wanted to hold the woman next to her in her arms. The figures on the screen seemed to be taunting her, daring her to take Maura's hand in the darkness, nuzzle her neck, stroke her knee. Jane's eyes nearly filled with tears of frustration as she contemplated the injustice of it all.

As soon as the movie let out Jane bolted for the ladies' room, where she splashed water on her face and then locked herself in a stall for nearly five minutes until she felt composed again. _It's just a stupid movie, Rizzoli. It's not real life. You don't always get the girl in real life_.

As they left the theater, Maura suggested that they go for a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. Jane agreed, telling herself that it would be no different from the dozens of other such dinners they had eaten together, but she had a hard time focusing throughout the meal. Hoping that Maura hadn't noticed how the movie had affected her, she tried to play it cool.

Aloof. Nonchalant. Indifferent.

She let Maura chat away, nodding and smiling when necessary, interjecting a few polite comments here and there. They were drinking coffee at the end of the meal when Maura suddenly reached across the table and took the detective's hand in hers.

"Jane."

Jane's head snapped up, and she reflexively squeezed Maura's fingers.

"Hmm?" Her eyes briefly caught Maura's and then she looked away.

"Is something wrong?" Maura leaned forward, her voice low and gentle.

"No! Not at all. Why do you ask?" Jane pulled her hand away to give the hovering waiter her empty plate.

"You've hardly said a word all night." Jane felt Maura's eyes boring into her with so much acuity that she wondered if the doctor could see right through her. She stalled by taking a long, dramatic sip of coffee, forcing Maura to continue.

"Are you still upset about last night—about what I said about your clothes?" Maura looked genuinely concerned, and now she was the one who looked away from Jane.

The detective felt herself blush slightly, but she continued to deny that anything was wrong.

"I'm not upset, really Maura, I'm not." She took another sip of coffee, trying to come up with an excuse. _Can't say I'm tired, I used that last night_.

"I was just—listening to you, that's all. You know I like listening to you talk." She smiled, and her voice softened. She was gratified to see that Maura smiled back, a small little smile accompanied by a slight tilt of her head that told Jane she was flattered by the compliment. _That really is true; I do love listening to her talk_.

"Jane."

_And I love listening to her say my name. The way she says the 'j', there's just something about it_.

"Seriously, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."

Maura just kept looking at her so intently that Jane almost broke down and told her everything. Jane held her friend's eyes for a long moment, but then had to look away. The waiter brought the check then, and the subject was dropped.

After that, Jane's only tactic was to avoid Maura as much as possible—just temporarily, she reasoned, until things went back to the way they had been before. They still went to lunch, but Jane dragged Frost or Korsak along. She suddenly had to run a lot of errands for her mother. There was work too, of course. After all, Maura knew about the demands of her job. Knew that there were cases that kept her so busy she had no time for extracurricular activities.

And definitely no time for sleepovers.

* * *

Ignoring the piles of laundry on the floor, Jane sat on the bed and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, wondering if she should call Maura. Just to watch a movie (perhaps an action flick, just to be safe), or order a pizza. It didn't have to lead to a sleepover.

But what if it did? Could she take that chance? What if Maura came over and gave her that look again, that look that saw into her soul and made her want to spew out every feeling and emotion she had? What if she confessed everything and Maura was finally forced to tell her what those 'bad characteristics' were?

Jane wanted desperately to know what those characteristics were. But at the same time, she desperately wanted to avoid knowing them. What if she couldn't handle knowing? What if their friendship was ruined as a result?

_What if it already _is _ruined? We've hardly spoken in . . . days. Weeks. It wasn't supposed to take this long._

Taking a deep breath, Jane opened the contacts folder on her phone and was just about to dial Maura's number when she saw the blue pajama top sitting on her bed. She paused for several long seconds, as images of Maura wearing the top and spread out on her bed sprang to her mind. Unable to banish the thoughts, she let the phone clatter onto the bedside table. Rubbing her temples, she shook her head and let out a groan of utter frustration.

With a sudden spurt of energy, she picked up the top and shoved it back into the dresser, slamming the drawer shut with much more force than needed. Scooping up a pile of clothes from the floor, she left her bedroom and stalked down the hall.

Jane hadn't even made it into the laundry room when she heard a knock on the door. It was after ten pm, and there was only one person who would come over that late without calling first.

_Maura_.

Jane's stomach did a somersault as she tossed the pile of dirty jeans into the laundry room and hastily closed the door. Running her hands through her hair, she crossed the living room and opened the front door, smiling broadly.

"Frankie! What the hell are you doing here?" Jane's face fell as she took in the sight of her brother on her doorstep, instead of her favorite doctor.

"What, can't a guy visit his sister?" Frankie edged past Jane without waiting for an invitation and headed for the couch. He was still wearing his uniform, so he had clearly just gotten off work.

Jane narrowed her eyes at her brother. "Usually if you come over it's because you want something."

Frankie pretended to take offense. "Actually, I'm here because I'm trying to help _you_ out, sis."

Jane snorted and sat down tiredly on the chair opposite the couch. "And just what are you going to help _me_ out with, Frankie?"

"Your life. Your social life, that is." Frankie grinned and raised his eyebrows tauntingly at his sister. Jane was taken aback. She was used to her mother trying to set her up on dates but . . .

"Don't you dare try to set me up with one of your smarmy little friends, Frankie Rizzoli."

"Not _that_ kind of social life—gross." Frankie grimaced. "I had a talk with Maura down at the station just a few minutes ago, and when I asked why she was working instead of hanging out with you—you know, like you guys usually do—she said that she thinks you're mad at her. So I figured I'd tell you so you can say you're sorry, or fix whatever you did. See what a helpful brother I am?"

Frankie did look genuinely pleased with himself, but Jane was speechless. She sat straight up in her chair, her hands on her knees, and stared at Frankie. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Frankie watched Jane's reaction, and then his tone became more sober. "Seriously, Janie, she seemed kind of upset. She tried to act like it doesn't bother her that you guys don't hang out anymore, but I think it really does. What's going on with you two, anyway?"

"What? Nothing! I'm not mad at her—is she mad at me?" Jane heard the panic in her voice and tried to tone it down. She repeated, "Did she say she was mad at me?"

"No—she just said it didn't seem like you wanted to hang out with her anymore. Well, she said something like 'socialize,' but I figured that's what she meant."

Jane buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Really? Geez. I've just been busy, that's all. I didn't know she was upset." Jane felt her chest tighten with sadness and guilt, knowing that she had, in fact, been shutting Maura out. Deep down, she had known that Maura must have been upset too, and she hated herself for being the cause of it.

_What a fucked up mess this is_.

Frankie spoke again, as Jane leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. "Anyway, then she asked me if I thought that you would like to teach her how to bowl."

Jane sat up straight again and looked quizzically at her brother, confused by his seemingly unrelated statement. "What? Frankie—bowling?"

"She is going to ask you to teach her how to bowl—she thinks then you'll want to hang out with her. I think. Geez, I don't know, Janie. It's like she's trying to plan a date for the two of you or something." Frankie chuckled at the thought. "But you'd better say yes, or you aren't really friends. I know girls are all into planning and stuff, but it doesn't seem like she should have to do this much just to get you to hang out with her. If you want to hang out with her, I mean."

"Of course I do," said Jane in a quiet voice, looking down at her hands. Feeling a surge of hope, she realized that if Maura still wanted to 'socialize' with her—was even willing to subject herself to a night of bowling—perhaps there was still a chance to fix things.

When she looked up again, Jane's features had softened. "Thanks for telling me this, Frankie. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'll figure it out. And I can definitely take her bowling, if that's what she wants to do."

After a few minutes of small talk, Frankie left to go meet some of his friends for a few beers. He invited Jane to come, but she mumbled something about laundry and sent him on his way. After closing the door behind him, Jane flopped down on the couch, and something that looked almost like a smile flickered across her face.

_Maura Isles is going to ask me out on a date_.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

A/N: I think it's about time we get to see how Maura feels about all of this, don't you?

Chapter 4

As an adolescent struggling to make sense of social interactions at her French boarding school, Maura Isles came across the following passage in Montaigne's _Essays_:

"This awkward complexion of mine renders me fastidious about mixing with people: I need to handpick my companions; and it also renders me awkward for ordinary activities."

As an adult, Maura eventually learned that when put in context Montaigne's words could be interpreted in several different ways, but at the time she first read the passage she took it at face value and recognized herself there. She knew she was awkward, she knew that ordinary social activities and conversations were difficult for her, and therefore she knew that she would not be the kind of person who had a lot of friends. Instead, she decided to concentrate on handpicking her companions—finding those individuals with whom her awkwardness was less of an obstacle.

For better or for worse Maura had unintentionally let this philosophy guide her life. Although most people thought her strange or quirky comments were the result of anti-social tendencies or the inexperience of a confirmed introvert, in fact Maura had become quite the student of human behavior. Surreptitiously, she watched people closely, deliberately. It was no accident that much of her published research dealt with interpreting emotions through the analysis of facial expressions—her personal interest in reading human behavior had led her to her own scientific studies.

If Maura behaved awkwardly in some settings, it was usually because those settings were, as Montaigne noted, ordinary. She didn't know that throwing three strikes in a row was called a turkey, or that an attacker was a position in field hockey, simply because those things had never really mattered to her. There had never been a reason for them to matter. On the other hand, her relationships with people did matter, and she had worked to cultivate meaningful friendships throughout her life. Once she had handpicked a friend, so to speak, she found great satisfaction in the experience of friendship and believed that she was, in fact, a good friend herself.

It hadn't happened often—when she said that she'd never had a best friend she hadn't been lying—but in Jane Rizzoli, she believed she had found such a friend. The doctor had never been as close to anyone as she was to Jane. Her awkwardness wasn't a problem to Jane at all—in fact, it often seemed as though the detective found it endearing. In any case, she was patient with Maura's idiosyncrasies and her sometimes odd way of looking at the world.

At least, she had been.

The second that Jane had walked away from her and stormed out of the Dirty Robber, Maura had known that something a lot more significant than clothing was bothering the detective. Jane rarely gave her wardrobe a second thought, and Maura found it entertaining to tease her about it. After all, Jane teased her about plenty of things—it was perhaps the aspect of their friendship that she enjoyed the most. Teasing can be, after all, a means of showing genuine affection, she told herself, remembering several studies that she had read to that effect.

So why had Jane become so upset when Maura had criticized her outfit? The only time she had seen Jane get so worked up over clothes was when she had a crush on Joe Grant and she was worried about the dress her mother had bought for her—

_Oh. Joe Grant!_

The proverbial light bulb went off in Maura's brain as she crossed the parking lot, trying to catch up to Jane and apologize. _There must be a man she is trying to impress!_ Maura didn't find it the least bit strange that Jane hadn't confided in her about her current crush—after all, the detective hadn't even admitted to liking Grant until he had already moved away from Boston. In typical Jane fashion, Maura reasoned, her friend was too self-conscious to admit that she had feelings for this mystery man, and too stubborn to ask Maura for help with her appearance.

Maura wasn't surprised that Jane still refused to admit there was a new guy on her mind, even when she had asked her about it directly. So she let the matter drop, trusting that Jane would tell her in her own way and her own time.

The next evening during their post-movie dinner Maura had immediately noticed that Jane was still distracted, but again Jane balked, insisting that nothing was bothering her. Maura watched her friend's behavior closely throughout the evening—watched her repeatedly run her fingers through her hair and push the unruly curls behind her ears, watched her shift from leaning on one elbow to the other, watched her avoid making eye contact.

Then, when Maura finally did manage to get Jane to look at her, she saw all the signs of an internal struggle going on in her friend's mind: the clenched jaw, the straight line of her mouth, the small spots of color on her cheeks. And her eyes—there was something in her eyes that Maura didn't quite recognize. The look she found there was familiar, but complete understanding of what it meant seemed just out of her reach.

She knew that Jane wasn't telling her something, but since the detective wasn't talking, she told herself to be patient.

Her patience began to wear thin, however, when it became clear that Jane was trying to avoid her. She had seen the detective use the "I didn't hear the phone" excuse when she ignored calls from her mother, and now Jane had given her that same excuse three times. She also knew that Jane would always choose going out to lunch over doing paperwork, but she was using that excuse too—so much so that Maura started bringing her lunch from home. And suddenly Jane was so attentive to her mother's needs—since when had Angela expected her daughter, her independent, adult daughter who had a challenging, more-than-full-time career, to pick up egg salad for her at the deli?

Maura was more than a little irritated at Jane's behavior. After all, there was no reason that Jane should be punishing her for her own inability to get a date with . . . whoever this guy was that she was interested in.

If it had been any other friend, Maura wouldn't have put up with it. But for Jane, Maura Isles made exceptions. Whatever her best friend was going through, she was determined to wait it out.

The last straw came on the Friday evening that no one invited her to drinks at the Dirty Robber. It had become a weekly tradition—unless there was an urgent case, she and Jane always went to the bar together. Jane came down to the morgue to get her, or called and arranged a time for them to meet. Maura had always felt that Frost, Korsak, Frankie, and any other friends who showed up were just tagging along—that she and Jane were the center of the group. It was one of the first times in her life that Maura felt secure and included in an extended social circle, and she had come to look forward to Friday nights like she never had before.

So when she looked at the clock that Friday and realized that it was after seven and Jane hadn't called or texted, she began to wonder what was going on. She hastily cleaned up in the morgue and headed upstairs to the homicide department only to find it empty. On her way out of the front entrance to the station the officer on duty at the desk told her politely that he had seen detectives Rizzoli, Frost, and Korsak all walk out together about twenty minutes earlier.

Maura felt a wave of pain wash over her as she realized she was being purposely excluded. There was simply no other explanation for it. Blinking back tears, she made her way to the parking lot and got into her car, fully intending to go home and have a good cry. But anger quickly took over. Jane was not just a casual acquaintance—Jane was her best friend. Even more than a best friend, if she admitted it to herself. How had they gone from falling asleep together more nights than she could count, to barely speaking? There had to be an explanation, and she intended to get it as soon as possible.

The Dirty Robber was, once again, crowded. Maura pushed her way through the throng of people, gathering courage as she went. Halfway across the room, she saw Jane. And Jane saw her.

Maura watched Jane's features when their eyes met, expecting to see guilt—guilt for not including her friend in their usual Friday night ritual. But instead she saw two things. First, and most unexpectedly, she saw Jane's face light up. That was the only way to describe it—her features simply opened up and for a brief instant she radiated happiness. But almost immediately the light flickered off and was replaced by a mask of indifference.

Maura recognized these two emotions in Jane's face because she had seen them before—just like this, in rapid succession. She had seen it when Jane was sitting at her desk and heard Joe Grant's voice precede him as he entered the office. She had seen it when agent Gabriel Dean—another one of Jane's recent crushes—had asked her out for coffee.

It was classic Jane—she was excited at the prospect of seeing the object of her affection, but worried about it too. Worried that she might not make a good impression, worried that she might say the wrong thing, but most of all worried that her excitement might show and that would somehow put her at a disadvantage or make her look needy.

But why, wondered Maura, would Jane need to put on such an act for her best friend?

_Oh. OH. _

Maura felt her heart pounding and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She had figured it out.

_I am the object of Jane's affections._

Caught off guard, Maura forgot her anger and the reason why she had come storming into the bar in the first place. She stopped in the middle of the crowd, first staring at Jane and then quickly looking away. Flustered, she caught Jane's eye again, pointed toward the back of the bar, and headed for the ladies' room.

Locking herself in an empty stall, Maura took a moment to reevaluate the conclusion that she had just come to. All of the questions Maura had about Jane's strange behavior of recent weeks now had answers; the emotional ups and downs, the withdrawal from their usual activities, the skittishness whenever Maura had tried to get to her open up—these behaviors all made sense. Jane had clearly been struggling with feelings that she couldn't control or fully understand. But now there were more questions, and more mysteries to solve. Most importantly, Maura wondered, was Jane conflicted because it was a _woman_ she had feelings for, or because it was _Maura_ she had feelings for?

Maura didn't have an answer for that question. And the even bigger question, the question that seemed to be sparking through every synapse in her brain—she didn't have an answer for that one, either.

_Do I have feelings for Jane?_

It was too much to process all at once. But she couldn't stay in the ladies' room of the Dirty Robber all night, and it would be too obvious that something was wrong if she tried to sneak out and go home. So she swallowed down the emotions inside of her that were struggling to escape, regained what composure she could, and walked back out to join her friends.

Once she reached the booth, she greeted everyone politely, although she avoided looking at Jane directly. She gratefully accepted the glass of cabernet that someone had ordered for her, however, taking a long sip before sitting down.

"We were just about to start a round of darts, Maura—are you in?" Jane's voice was steady, and if she noticed that Maura was a bit distracted she didn't say anything.

"Of course! I'll play the winner," responded Maura with as much normalcy as she could muster. She sat back as Jane and Korsak started the first game.

Since Maura never won at darts, and Jane almost always did, the doctor had plenty of time to think. From her seat in the booth, Maura set about watching Jane as the detective competed with her colleagues—watching her as she never had before. It was as though she had put on color-tinted glasses and she could see things clearly that had once been only shadows. She had always thought that Jane was gorgeous, but that fact was plainly obvious to everyone. In yoga class Maura had certainly admired Jane's lithe, athletic body, from the slope of her shoulders to the smooth, taut muscles of her belly. These thoughts were confirmed as she watched Jane throwing darts, her hair pulled back to reveal a strong jaw line, eyes sharpened in concentration, and dimples that appeared when she got off a good shot and her face broke into a smile.

But soon it was memories of Jane's touch that occupied her thoughts. Jane had never been shy about touching her—a pat on the arm, a poke in the ribs, a hand on the small of her back as they walked through a crowd. Like their tendency to tease each other, this physical aspect of their friendship had been new to Maura, but no less welcome. She had long ago admitted to herself that she liked being physically close to Jane—otherwise she never would have even considered spending night after night sleeping next to the detective.

She suddenly missed those sleepovers, and Jane's gentle touches, quite acutely. The thought that these small touches could be just a beginning—that one day, and one day soon, she would get to trace her fingers along those muscles instead of just glancing at them fleetingly—it was nothing short of revelatory. There could be more touches—there could be parts of Jane that she could touch and no one else could. They already shared so much, things that were for just the two of them, and there could be more.

More. Maura could hardly catch her breath with the thought of it.

It was her turn to try to beat Jane at darts again. Jane looked at her and smiled, beckoning her over to the game. Maura smiled back, feeling lightheaded again as she noted how Jane's eyes sparkled and seemed to have no other purpose than to look at her. Look through her. See her as she really was and love her for it.

_Really, Maura?_ She could hear Jane's voice in her head, chastising her for letting herself get a bit carried away. Maura shook her head in disbelief at how far she had let her thoughts take her in just a few short minutes. It was entirely possible that she was jumping to conclusions, and that was not something that Dr. Maura Isles did. Ever. So there would have to be further research, further study into where this relationship was going.

A small, secret smile returned to her face as the thought came to her. _I am going to ask Jane Rizzoli out on a date_.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews!

Chapter 4

On a Tuesday morning Maura lurked around the homicide department for quite some time before she finally caught Jane alone at her desk. Peering through the door, she watched the detective, who was intently studying something on her computer screen. Maura waited for a moment, feeling nervous about taking this next step, despite the fact that she was reasonably confident that Jane would say yes. In fact, she had made it nearly impossible for Jane _not_ to accept her invitation.

Maura had puzzled over the details of the date for several days. She decided on bowling because she had never played the game herself and she knew that Jane would enjoy teaching her. But that was only if she could get Jane to stop avoiding her and actually go on the date.

One evening Frankie presented the solution to the problem when he stopped by the morgue and asked why she wasn't with Jane. Maura saw her opportunity and told Frankie how sad she was that Jane didn't seem interested in socializing with her anymore, knowing that would prick at Jane's conscience when Frankie relayed the information. Then she asked him to ask Jane about bowling. She felt a little childish about the ruse but it seemed to have paid off, and Frankie reported to her that Jane was amenable to the idea. Sure enough, the next few times that Maura interacted with Jane, her friend seemed a bit less awkward and a little more open.

So, taking a deep breath, Maura approached Jane's desk and said hello.

Jane looked up and smiled. "Hey, Maura." She removed her jacket from an otherwise empty chair. "Have a seat. How's it going?"

"Good, things have been fairly slow downstairs, and I was thinking that if you aren't working tonight, maybe we could go bowling." Maura felt a little panicky—that was not how she had planned to issue the invitation, but the words just tumbled out.

Jane made a heroic effort to look surprised. "Bowling? Since when do you bowl, Maura?"

"I don't. I mean, I never have before." Maura looked down at her hands, pretending to examine her nails. "But I would like to learn, and I thought you could teach me."

"Really? You want to learn to bowl?" Jane sounded somewhat incredulous, but Maura could see a grin threatening to break through her friend's features.

"Yes, I do! Come on, Jane, it'll be fun." Maura paused and looked at her hands again, and then her voice dropped in tone. "It's been awhile since we've done anything together, just the two of us." Without looking up, Maura then reached out and took Jane's hand, lightly running her thumb over Jane's smooth skin. She felt Jane's fingers tighten around hers and her breath caught in her throat.

At that point, Maura knew what she should say. She had planned it out—she was going to say, "It'll be kind of like a date." She wanted to be clear—she wanted Jane to know that she knew, that she _knew_ and that she wanted _more_. But sitting there, holding Jane's hand, feeling Jane caress her skin while she caressed Jane's, instinctively turning her hand so that Jane could trace circles on her palm, she lost her nerve and forgot the lines she had scripted for herself. All she managed to say was, "It'll be . . . um . . ."

So it was Jane who had to bring her back to reality. The detective suddenly withdrew her hand, and Maura heard her take a sharp breath. Jane leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, I'll teach you how to bowl." Maura's head snapped up and her hands fell back into her lap as Jane continued. "But only on two conditions."

"Of course, whatever you say," stammered Maura, thoroughly flustered.

"First, I actually get to teach you how to play. You do not get to look up all the rules online so that you can quote them to me. Second, you cannot wear a dress and heels to go bowling. You will wear jeans and you will rent bowling shoes like everyone else."

Maura just looked at Jane, with a guilty look on her face.

"Maura, what's that look for?"

"Um . . ."

"You've already researched the rules, haven't you."

"Yes. But I don't know any of the practical things about the game, so you'll have to teach me those things. And I promise not to tell you any of the rules. Unless, of course, you ask me."

"What about the shoes?"

Maura looked guilty again.

"You have to wear bowling shoes, Maura. It doesn't work without the—without the special slidy shoes! You can bring your own disinfectant if you're worried about germs, but you have to wear the shoes."

"Oh, I will wear the shoes. But I already bought my own." Maura smiled tentatively with the admission.

Jane snorted. "Of course you did." Jane smiled too, and asked with a smirk, "And just where did you buy these shoes?"

"A sporting goods' store." Maura looked indignant, pretending to take offense at the thought that she wouldn't know where to purchase shoes. _Shoes_, of all things.

Now Jane truly did look surprised. "You went to a sporting goods' store—by yourself? That must have been . . . interesting." The thought of Maura interacting with the kind of guys who worked at stores that carried bowling shoes made Jane chuckle.

Then it was Maura's turn to laugh. "No. I bought them online two days ago. They should arrive this afternoon." She smiled at Jane, looking very pleased with herself.

"Okay, you can wear your special shoes. But no skirt!"

"I will wear jeans. They won't have holes in them, like yours do," said Maura drily, narrowing her eyes at Jane, "but I will wear jeans." Maura stood up then, getting ready to return to her office. "I'll come by your place at about seven, okay?"

"Seven it is." Maura was almost out the door when she heard Jane call out after her, "I know you're going to wear heels with your jeans, so don't forget to bring socks!"

* * *

By the time Maura was attired in her special bowling shoes and had picked out a ball, she was fairly certain that Jane was flirting with her. At least, all of the evidence seemed to point to that conclusion. It was almost as if the rift in their friendship hadn't happened at all—they were back to sharing jokes and just enjoying each other's company.

And, Maura was careful to notice, Jane had started touching her again. It was nothing too obvious—just a pat on the arm, a squeeze of the elbow. But most of all, Jane was smiling. Smiling at _her_. And Maura couldn't keep a silly grin off her face either.

Then, once Jane began the instructional phase of the evening, it seemed the flirting and the touching became even more blatant.

"Okay, I'm assuming that during your research you read about how to hook the ball?"

Maura frowned. "Hook?"

"Yeah, you twist your wrist to make the ball curve."

"Oh, a curve ball, yes."

"That's baseball—in bowling, it's called a hook. Anyway, beginners usually just roll the ball straight, and there are some shots that work better with a straight ball, but if you want to get strikes you need to hook it."

Maura nodded, and Jane took a step toward her and lowered her voice. "Now this is going to be a little bit awkward since I'm left-handed and you're right-handed, but," Jane grasped Maura by the shoulders and gently turned her around to face the pins, "I think we can figure it out." Standing directly behind the doctor, she put her left hand on Maura's shoulder. Maura felt Jane press her body close, and she caught her breath at the sensation. Slowly, Jane ran her right hand down the back of Maura's right arm before grasping it at the wrist. Speaking softly right at the level of Maura's ear, Jane explained how to twist the wrist during the follow through while she guided Maura's hand through the motions.

If she noticed the goosebumps that had appeared on nearly every inch of Maura's skin, Jane didn't say anything.

Still standing behind her friend, Jane then put both her hands on Maura's hips and continued her instruction. "See those dots on the floor? Depending on the angle of your hook, you'll want to line up with one of these dots before each throw. For now, I think we'll start you right about . . . here." She guided Maura just a few inches to the right, and then dropped her hands and stepped away.

Immediately missing the heat of Jane's hands on her body, it was at that point that Maura realized she needed to breathe if she was going to stay conscious.

"Okay, grab your ball and give it a shot. Do you know what to aim for?"

"Yes!" Maura was happy to explain. "For either the pocket between the one and the three pin, or the one and the two pin."

"Well, then let's see what you can do, Dr. Isles," smirked Jane.

Maura's first few throws were, predictably, not very good. But she learned quickly and by the end of the first game she was keeping the ball out of the gutter and had even bowled a strike. Halfway through the second game, she had picked up three spares and was growing quite confident in her abilities. She was also becoming rather comfortable with all the flirting and touching that was going on.

So, when she had to try to pick up the five and the seven pins for a spare, she didn't hesitate to contradict Jane's suggested technique—just to get a rise out of her.

"I think I should try to get it with my hook, Jane."

"No, a straight ball would be safer—line up at the far right and throw it diagonally across. If you throw it hard enough you'll get both pins no problem."

"Or I could curve it—I mean, hook it—and I wouldn't have to worry about how hard to throw it."

"Maura, I hate to tell you, but your hook isn't that great yet," said Jane with a smile of forced patience.

Maura narrowed her eyes at Jane, but also smiled. "Fine. I'll try the straight ball."

She missed the shot and came back to the seating area in a fake pout. Jane was sitting in the scorer's chair and Maura stood right next to her. She put her arm around Jane's shoulders.

"Now you see, Jane," said Maura, as she slid her hand to the back of Jane's neck, letting her fingers trail lightly down her spine until they touched the edge of Jane's t-shirt; "if you weren't so stubborn and bossy," she continued, giving Jane's neck a tiny squeeze, "I might have picked up that spare."

Maura's tone was playful, but she was surprised at how bold she was to caress Jane's neck so intimately. She stopped breathing again as she waited for Jane to react.

The worst happened. Jane turned her head and looked up at Maura with confused look on her face. Maura immediately removed her hand, and Jane stood up to take her turn without saying anything.

Jane bowled a strike and she returned to her seat with a look of triumph on her face, but Maura could tell it was less than genuine. She knew instantly that she had gone too far, and Jane's behavior over the next few frames seemed to confirm her suspicions—Jane's happy grin disappeared, and she began to chew on the corner of her lip.

Maura finished the game in a bit of a daze. The friendly banter was gone, although both women tried to appear as though they were still having a good time. When Jane finished the tenth frame, she immediately began taking off her shoes, leaving Maura to understand that there would not be a third game. She stepped up to the lane for her final frame. Knocking down six pins with her first ball, she was just about to try to pick up the spare when several things happened at once.

First, Jane noticed that Maura needed to begin her approach at least three inches to the left of where she was standing, so in her stocking feet she stood up behind the doctor to move her over. At the same time, three lanes down, a bowler threw a strike—his sixth in a row—and a crowd of his companions erupted in applause. This distracted Jane, who turned her head and didn't notice that Maura had already begun her backswing.

The ball hit Jane just above the knee and then Maura dropped it in surprise. Right onto Jane's left foot.

The pain dropped Jane to the ground and caused a string of profanity to pour from her mouth while tears stung her eyes. Maura was immediately sitting next to her, apologizing profusely and soon tears were streaming down her own face.

"Jane, oh my god, I'm so sorry—here, let me look at it—"

"No, Maura! Don't touch it!" Jane winced, sucking air through her teeth. "Just wait a second—geez." Jane rested her forehead on her knees as she waited for the throbbing pain to subside. Maura instinctively put her arm around Jane, pressing her cheek against Jane's shoulder and sobbing quietly.

After a few moments, Jane sat back up and looked at Maura. "Wait—why are _you _crying? I'm the one who was just attacked by a bowling ball."

Maura emitted a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob. "I hurt you Jane! I—I didn't mean to . . ." She hugged Jane tighter.

"It's okay, Maura, I know you didn't. It was an accident." She slid her arm around Maura's waist, holding her tightly until both of them managed to control their tears.

"This is really not how I thought this evening would go," said Maura after a minute or so.

Jane chuckled. "Me neither, Maura. Me neither."

* * *

Jane protested, but Maura managed to convince her that she needed an x-ray. Three hours later, Jane arrived at her apartment with a splint on two toes of her left foot and a walking cast—which she immediately removed as soon as she was situated on her couch. Maura was about to chastise her for it, but wisely left it alone.

The thought suddenly struck Maura as she watched Jane lean her head back against the couch and smile up at her. It was not a tired smile, a patient smile, or a patronizing smile—it was just a Jane smile.

_She can still smile at me after I dropped a bowling ball on her foot? It's now or never_.

Maura sat next to her friend—just cuddled right up against her, resting her head on Jane's shoulder. Jane tilted her head to rest her cheek against the top of Maura's head.

"How's the pain," said Maura, softly.

"Doesn't hurt at all, actually. The ibuprofen kicked in, I guess."

"I really am sorry, Jane."

"I know—don't worry about it." Jane took Maura's hand then, and began toying with her fingers.

Emboldened, Maura squeezed Jane's fingers after a few moments, stilling them. In a quiet voice full of emotion, she said, "I miss this, Jane. I miss—just being with you."

Jane was silent for several heartbeats before she responded. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Jane."

"What?"

"Talk about why you've been avoiding me, why you just—shut down tonight when we were having such a good time. If I hadn't dropped the ball on your foot we probably wouldn't be talking now."

Jane suddenly stiffened, and pulled away. "Oh my god, Maura! You didn't drop a fucking bowling ball on my fucking foot to get me to talk about my _fucking feelings_, did you?"

Maura was taken aback by Jane's sudden harshness, and she felt tears spring to her eyes once again. "No, Jane, of course not! Is that what you think of me? That I would physically hurt you for my own selfish purposes?" Maura struggled to stop herself from breaking into sobs again.

Jane looked chastened, and her face fell. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "No, no, that's not what I think of you. Sorry." She paused before continuing in a quiet voice. "I think I know what you think of me, though."

Again, Maura was startled. "What?"

Jane's eyes glanced away, and then she took a deep breath and looked directly at her friend. "You think I have bad characteristics, Maura. You think I'm stubborn and bossy." Jane looked down at her hands, and then back at Maura again. "You said that if Jorge got to know me then he would leave me alone, and tonight you said I was stubborn and bossy. What are my other bad characteristics Maura? What else do you not like about me?"

The confusion on Maura's face was evident. She stared at Jane for several seconds. The detective's face was open and her voice broke with raw emotion—Maura knew immediately that Jane was telling the truth—telling Maura exactly how much the doctor's words had hurt her. Dumbfounded and ashamed, she sputtered, "_That's_ what all of this has been about?"

"Yeah. I don't like knowing that my best friend thinks I have bad characteristics, okay?"

Maura leaned forward, resting her face in her hands. "Oh, Jane, you know I sometimes say the wrong thing, don't you? Don't you know that?" She sat up and looked at Jane. "I've said the wrong thing probably dozens of other times and you've managed to understand me anyway—why did you fixate on this?"

"I don't know, I—" Jane looked bewildered.

"Jane, listen to me. When I said that about Jorge, I let my brain and my words get out of sync. What I was _thinking_ was that it was already obvious that Jorge was not the right guy for you—that he wouldn't appreciate your independence, your perseverance, your strong will. But I didn't actually _say_ anything about that—my brain had already jumped ahead to the next logical conclusion."

"Which was?"

"That if Jorge spent a little more time with you, he would figure out that you two weren't right for each other. You had already figured it out, he was just a little slow to catch on. But Jane, _I_ don't think you have bad characteristics! All of those things that Jorge wouldn't appreciate—because despite the fact that he thinks he's progressive, he's still just a Neanderthal who probably has carpet burns on his knuckles—those are things that I _love_ about you."

Then, Maura threw her arms around Jane's neck and hugged her tightly. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Jane." Jane answered by wrapping her arms around Maura and hugging her back. The two women held each other for several minutes before Maura pulled away.

"So, are we okay?" She asked, not without some trepidation. There were fresh tears in Jane's eyes, but she nodded. "I'm sorry, Maura—I didn't—"

"It's okay, Jane. I think we've both done enough apologizing for one evening." She sank back into the couch, and the two women sat together in silence.

The bigger issue was hanging in the air between them, and neither woman wanted to bring it up.

Finally, Maura gathered up her courage and broke the silence. She had to know. "Is there anything else on your mind, Jane?" She turned her head to look at her friend.

Jane twisted her fingers together and looked straight ahead.

"Nope."

Maura felt her heart pounding in her chest, waiting until Jane said something else.

Until the long silence spoke for her.

Maura sat up and sighed tiredly. "I guess I'd better get home, then. It's almost midnight. Are you going to be okay?"

Jane sat up too, running her fingers through her hair. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

The air between them was still heavy, so Maura tried to lighten the mood. "Do we have to tell everyone at the station about the bowling ball incident?"

Jane gestured at the splint on her foot. "I think people are going to want an explanation, and I'm not risking my reputation by saying it was my fault!" Maura laughed.

"I guess I'll have to take the teasing then."

"Yeah, you probably will. But not too much, because they know I'm your best friend and I'll smack anyone who takes it too far."

Maura grinned gratefully. She almost reached out to touch Jane's arm, but stopped herself and looked away regretfully.

_I guess I was wrong about _that._ About her wanting _more.

A/N 1: Thanks to heatwave16, for suggesting that Maura should have special bowling shoes. Such shoes actually do exist—I once owned a pair in another life.

A/N 2: Yes, it really does hurt that much to have a bowling ball dropped on your foot.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli & Isles_

Chapter 6

As soon as Maura left the apartment, Jane began rationalizing.

_I couldn't say anything right then, it's late and we have to work in the morning._

_I was tired of the emotional conversation—Maura should know I'm no good at that kind of stuff._

_I don't want to tell my best friend that I'm in love with her when I have a bowling ball-sized dent in my foot_.

Then, finally,

_Screw it._

Jane jumped off the couch and hobbled, as fast as her gimpy leg could carry her, out the front door and down the stairs. Wincing as her bare feet hit the cold sidewalk, she called out to Maura, who was halfway down the block just unlocking her car.

As soon as Maura noticed Jane standing on the steps of her building she immediately closed the car door and walked back the way she had come.

"Jane, what is it? You're going to hurt yourself—why didn't you—"

"Maura," interrupted Jane as she took her friend's hand, "Maura, it's late and you're already here, why don't you just stay tonight?"

Maura looked at her quizzically for a long moment. Jane wondered what emotions and thoughts Maura was reading in her face, but she decided that she didn't care.

"Of course I'll stay, if you want me to," said Maura tentatively.

"Yeah, I—I—I'd like it if you stayed," stammered Jane in a low voice. "But if you'd rather not . . ." She dropped the doctor's hand and pretended to look at something in the street.

Maura ignored Jane's attempt to play it cool. Smiling, she took Jane by the arm and led her back upstairs.

Within just a few minutes, both women had changed into pajamas, brushed their teeth, and collapsed into Jane's bed. It had been a long day, and Jane found she could hardly keep her eyes open. Turning toward the center of the bed, she again reached out and took Maura's hand.

_I can't stop touching her. I just can't_.

"G'night Maura," she whispered softly, with closed eyes.

"Good night, Jane," whispered Maura back.

Jane fell asleep quickly, so she had no idea that Maura remained awake for quite some time, just watching the detective and holding her hand.

When Jane opened her eyes the next morning, she felt two types of pain—an ache in her foot, and another type of ache when she realized that she was alone in the bed. Rolling over to look at the clock, she immediately noticed a glass of water on her bedside table along with a bottle of acetaminophen. She smiled as she imagined Maura leaving them there for her, knowing that her foot would probably hurt when she woke up. Then she heard the shower running and her heart jumped as she realized that Maura hadn't left yet.

Sitting up, she downed a couple of pills and waited for Maura to get out of the shower. Her thoughts wandered to the previous night. She was fairly certain that Maura had feelings for her, but she still wasn't sure if she was ready to do anything about it yet.

_What am I so afraid of?_

_Maura's the only one that I go to when I am afraid—how can I be afraid of her? Of . . . us?_

Jane heard the shower shut off, and soon Maura came out of the bathroom wearing yesterday's jeans and an old sweatshirt. Toweling her hair, she noticed that Jane was awake.

"Oh, good, you're up. I texted Frost about your foot and he said he would cover for you if you need to be late. I'm just going to run home and finish getting ready—I hope you don't mind that I borrowed this sweatshirt."

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks for telling Frost. And thanks for the tylenol."

Maura looked at her sympathetically. "Does it hurt a lot this morning?"

"Not too bad." Jane yawned, and Maura approached the bed.

"Here, let me look at it." Maura sat on the edge of the bed and pulled back the sheet to reveal Jane's swollen and bruised foot. "It doesn't look too bad, but you should probably try to ice it before you leave. Do you want me to talk to Cavanaugh and see if you can have the day off?"

"For this? The guys would never let me live it down. It'll be fine."

Maura narrowed her eyes at Jane, but she didn't argue. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, she began to trace patterns on Jane's bare leg.

_Looks like she can't stop touching me, either_. Jane grinned at the thought.

"Jane—" Maura paused, still moving her fingers lightly across Jane's skin. She looked up at her friend. "Jane, when you bought new clothes a few weeks ago—were you doing that for me?"

Jane's immediate instinct was to deny it. "What?" She snorted slightly. "No."

Maura interrupted. "I mean, did you buy new clothes because I was teasing you about yours? About you having no fashion sense?" Maura stilled her hand, squeezing Jane's calf muscle lightly.

"Um . . . maybe," said Jane. She looked down at the hand on her leg, trying to control her breathing. Maura's fingers were very distracting.

"Well, I'm sorry for teasing you."

"It's okay, it's no big deal. I don't mind if you tease me—a little." Jane finally looked up and smiled sheepishly.

Maura returned the smile, but then suddenly she looked away shyly. "Just so you know, I think you are beautiful no matter what you wear," she said in a quiet voice.

"That's—um . . . hmm," stammered Jane, "thanks, Maura."

Maura stood up abruptly, putting her hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt. "I'll see you at work, okay?"

"Okay."

Halfway across the room, Maura turned around. "But, Jane? You really should shave your legs more often. You never know . . ." she trailed off briefly before deciding to leave it at that. "You just never know." She gave Jane a smirk and headed down the hall.

Stunned, Jane flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for at least five minutes. Then she got up and limped into the shower.

She spent a full fifteen minutes carefully shaving her legs.

* * *

Jane spent most of her day in a series of meetings and interviews revolving around an open case, but every spare second she had was filled with thoughts of Maura. In fact, she had to be careful not to let her mind wander too far—in the middle of one meeting she found herself remembering the feel of Maura's hand caressing her leg and was only brought out of her daydream when Frost kicked her under the table.

But when five o'clock rolled around and Jane had neither seen nor heard from Maura all day, she started to let her mind wander in a much more dangerous direction. She definitely wanted to spend the evening with the doctor, but they had made no plans and she didn't want to just assume that Maura would agree. She picked up her phone, willing it to buzz with a text or ring with a call from Maura.

She decided she would wait until six, and then began tackling the pile of paperwork on her desk.

At 6:05 she told herself that she would go down to the morgue just as soon as she had finished the file she was working on.

To her great relief, at 6:20 she heard the sound of heels clicking in the hallway. Soon, Maura was standing at her desk holding an ice pack.

"You haven't iced your foot all day, have you," said the doctor with a frown.

"Hello, Maura, nice to see you too," quipped Jane, rolling her eyes.

Maura pulled up a chair and gestured for Jane to put her foot up. Maura pulled off the boot and a sock before sitting down with Jane's foot in her lap.

She peered at the injury. "Jane, this looks a lot better—you actually have been icing it, haven't you?" Maura smiled brightly at the detective.

"Don't look so surprised—I can follow doctor's orders," smirked Jane.

"Ooh, and you shaved your legs too," whispered Maura as her hand snuck up Jane's pant leg.

"Maura!" squeaked Jane through clenched teeth, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. Korsak sat at his desk, but he was engrossed with something on his computer. Or at least he pretended to be.

Maura made an innocent face, but withdrew her hand and settled the ice pack on Jane's foot.

After a minute of silence, Jane quietly asked, "So what have you been doing all day? I—I kinda missed you."

"Aw, Jane . . ."

Jane made another strangled shushing sound, gesturing with her eyes toward Korsak. Maura caught the hint.

"One of my assistants was out sick today, so I had to pick up the slack. But I'm done now—shall we get a pizza and watch a DVD at your place?"

"Sounds good, I'm too tired to go out." Jane stretched and yawned, glancing over at Korsak as he got up from his desk and walked out of the room with his cell phone to his ear.

Once Korsak was out of earshot, Maura took up the thread of the conversation again. "You know, Jane," she said in a quiet voice, "your shyness about showing your emotions is one of your most endearing characteristics."

"What? I'm not—"

"Jane, just listen. No one else is here, and you don't have to be embarrassed, so I'm going to say this whether you like it or not. I know you have to act tough all the time, but inside—inside of you there's so much going on. So much that you think about, worry about, care about. I love that about you, Jane. Your tough side, and your soft side." Maura's voice dropped in pitch as she continued. "And I love that I get to see both sides. That you trust me enough to roll your eyes at me one minute and then tell me that you missed me the next."

Korsak walked back in then, before Jane had a chance to say anything, and before she knew it the doctor had removed the ice pack and was getting ready to leave. "Shall we meet at your place in 45 minutes or so? I'll let you get the pizza so you can get what you want on it."

"Yeah, sure, 45 minutes." Looking up into the hazel eyes that she loved so much, Jane could see hesitation and vulnerability there. Quickly taking Maura's hand before the doctor bustled away, she whispered, "thank you."

Maura smiled, looking somewhat embarrassed, but she squeezed Jane's hand before pulling away and leaving the room.

* * *

Halfway through their DVD, Jane had inhaled three large slices of pizza and swallowed down a couple of beers. Maura sat next to her on the couch, close enough that every once in awhile their arms touched and Jane could smell her perfume.

_It doesn't get much better than this_.

_Well . . ._

"Hey, can we pause it for a second? I have to, you know, go down the hall."

"You mean, use the restroom, Jane?"

"Yes, Maura. I need to pee. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course! I'm not surprised, given—"

"Maura!" Jane limped off down the hall.

When she returned, Maura had stretched out across the length of the couch.

"Hey, you took my spot!"

"I'm tired, Jane, and your couch is so comfortable." Maura showed no signs of moving.

"Well, just scooch down a little . . ." Jane edged her way back into her corner, and Maura carefully rested her head on Jane's thigh before pushing the play button on the remote.

_Now this is even better_.

Jane soon found it was pretty much impossible to find a place to put her left hand that wasn't touching Maura. First she rested it on the doctor's shoulder, and before she knew it her fingers had migrated to her hip. Within a few minutes, she had plucked up enough courage to begin stroking Maura's soft, silky hair. From there it was only a tiny step to running her fingers down the smooth skin of Maura's neck, to stroking a pink cheek, to tracing a finger around the shell of her ear.

Every new exploration seemed to find something softer than anything she had ever felt in her entire life.

_I wonder if she can feel me shaking_. _I wonder if she has any idea how much I want her._

The movie ended, and Maura switched off the TV, but she showed no signs of wanting to get up. Jane continued her stroking and caressing, unwilling or unable to break the silence.

"Jane . . ."

"Hmm?"

"This feels—really nice." Maura's voice was shaky.

"You're so beautiful, Maura," whispered Jane. "So soft—"

Jane's phone rang and both women jumped. Feeling as though she had just awakened from a dream, the detective answered the phone gruffly without checking the caller id.

"Rizzoli."

Maura sat up and ran her hands through her hair before beginning to clear the remains of the pizza from the coffee table.

"Hey, ma. What's up?"

Jane spoke to her mother for several minutes before hanging up and groaning.

"I have to go Maura—Ma's sick, pop's out on a job 45 minutes away and Frankie's working. She swears she won't survive without a decongestant." Jane groaned again and rubbed her eyes.

"That's okay, Jane, go ahead. I should be getting home anyway—I have a long day tomorrow."

"Are you sure? It won't take long, I don't think."

"Yes, I'm sure." Maura shrugged into her coat and picked up her purse while Jane put on her shoes and a jacket. They walked out together, heading in separate directions once they reached the street. They had only taken a few steps away from each other when Maura turned around.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Your family—your dedication to your family—it's another thing about you that I admire." Quickly changing tone, she added brightly, "Tell your mom I hope she feels better soon."

Jane watched her friend walk away, again at a loss for words. "Okay, Maura. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow.

* * *

Friday night meant drinks at the Dirty Robber, as usual. Maura had been swamped down in the morgue, and much to Jane's dismay she had hardly seen the doctor at all. As she left the station with Frost and Korsak, she received a text from Maura indicating that her friend would join them at the bar as soon as she could.

Deciding that she wanted to stay sober, at least until Maura got there, Jane had only one beer. She beat all challengers at darts, and as seven o'clock became eight and then nine, she got bored and grumpy. Korsak was telling stories about one of his crazy ex-wives when some uniformed officers in the booth next to theirs began getting a group together for some poker.

At that point Jane decided she would try to sneak out and go find Maura. She was horrible at poker, and everyone at the station knew it. Leaving turned out to be rather difficult, however, when some of the guys began teasing her.

"Come on, Rizzoli, we'll go easy on you!"

"Yeah, don't you want to try to win some of the money back that we took off you last time?"

"Or are you just afraid, Rizzoli?"

Jane smiled good-naturedly and was about to give in and say she'd play a few hands, when suddenly Maura appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Jane felt her heart pound, and she was unable to stop a grin from spreading across her face.

"What are you guys talking about?" Maura asked as she approached the group.

"Oh, just how Jane's afraid to play a little poker," answered Korsak with a smirk. Jane smacked her former partner on the arm.

"What? That can't be true." Maura turned and looked directly into the detective's eyes. "Jane Rizzoli isn't afraid of anything. It's one of her best qualities."

The look on Maura's face said everything to Jane. It was challenging, it was confident, it was so damn sexy she felt dizzy. Riveted by Maura's features, Jane watched the gleam in Maura's eyes before letting her gaze wander to her lips, her chin, the edge of the low-cut top she had changed into . . .

Her eyes snapped back up to Maura's again. "That's right," she stated with confidence. "I am definitely not afraid."

Tearing herself away from Maura's eyes, she turned toward the crowd of people behind her. "Have fun, guys—I'll win my money back from you next time." Taking Maura by the arm, she led them out of the bar without looking back.

Once outside, Jane didn't waste any time. She pulled Maura around to the side of the building facing the parking lot and backed her up against the wall. Pressing the length of her body into Maura's, she hovered just inches away from the beautiful face that she loved so much.

"I'm not afraid, Maura," she whispered huskily, gripping Maura's hip with her left hand and leaning against the wall with her right.

"I know. Neither am I," said Maura, taking shallow breaths and snaking her hand behind Jane's head, burying her fingers in dark curls.

Resting her forehead against Maura's, Jane groaned out Maura's name and then their lips met. Grasping at each other, the kiss deepened rapidly. Maura leaned her head back against the wall and parted her lips, silently begging Jane to follow her. The detective complied, feeling the world slip away as she found Maura's tongue and stroked it, again and again until Maura squealed.

"I have to breathe, Jane," gasped Maura.

"Sorry—" Jane began to back away, struggling for breath herself.

"No, stay close, don't stop," panted Maura as she held Jane as tightly as she could. Then she initiated another kiss, sucking Jane's bottom lip, biting it, and then soothing it with her tongue. She froze as Jane's hand found its way from her hip to her breast, kneading it through the fabric of her shirt and gently grazing her thumb over a firm nipple. She broke off the kiss then and rested her head between Jane's neck and shoulder, still seeking as much contact as possible. "That feels so good, Jane, don't stop," she whispered into Jane's shoulder.

"Maura," Jane groaned again, "I never want to be not touching you, ever again. Okay?"

"Okay," mumbled Maura. "Can't you get any closer, right now? Please Jane, I feel like I've been waiting for this—for you—forever." She gripped Jane's hips, kneading her fingers into Jane's curves.

"Not here I can't," smirked Jane, initiating another passionate kiss.

"Jane," whispered Maura as she pulled away again.

"Hmm?" Jane began kissing down Maura's neck.

"You know we're going to have to talk about this at some point, right? Talk about our feelings, and what all of this means?"

Jane leaned back and looked her love in the eyes. "Yes. And I'm not afraid of that either." Jane grinned again, and Maura rewarded her with several more kisses.

"You have no idea what that grin does to me, Jane Rizzoli."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Shall we go back to my place and conduct some experiments?"

"I'm a scientist, Jane, what else would you expect me to do?"

Backing away from the wall, the two women turned rather unsteadily toward the parking lot. Jane stole one more kiss, and then broke away to find that they had an audience.

Frost, Korsak, Frankie, and half of the Boston Police Department began cheering and hollering. Jane and Maura reddened, and looked at each other sheepishly. Still holding hands, they beat a hasty retreat, doing their best to ignore the whistling while they walked to Maura's car.

The last thing they heard as the car door shut was Korsak's booming voice,

"Finally! Rizzoli and Isles!"

The End

**Thanks for reading everyone, and for all the kind reviews! **


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